


Chart the Stars

by Sir_Thopas



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: 1660s, Alternate Universe, Genderswap, Multi, Trans Male Character, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Thopas/pseuds/Sir_Thopas
Summary: It is the 1660s and the Age of Discovery. France seeks to put down roots in Canada, the Massachusetts Bay Colony is in the throes of a religious crisis as the Puritans come face-to-face with the liberal Quakers, and the Northwest Passage is the stuff of dreams. Enter the SG Shipping Company -- a rival to British East India -- and its explorations of the New World.





	Chart the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this was written as a little challenge to myself, to make something as AU as possible but still make it recognizable to the fandom (and still follow the major plotlines of the series). I don't know if I'll continue this. If I do, it'll probably just be a series of vignettes.

Jane O'Neill Hoffman stood at the bow of the ship, watching the waves break against the prow. To her left she could still see the gray silhouettes of trees, an untamed virgin forest taunting her with mysteries she might never fully uncover. On her right lay her first love, the sea. 

Captain Carter's steady tread broke through the crashing of the waves. Jane didn't bother to turn around. "My crew is not used to having a woman onboard, Mrs Hoffman." 

Jane had long perfected that particular deadpan expression that drove most people to rage and Captain Carter into quiet humor. "Your sailors do understand that they work for me? It is my shipping company that pays their wages. In fact... I own an entire fleet of ships. I think that makes me an admiral. Tell your boys that from now they will refer to me as 'Admiral Hoffman'." Twenty years in the New World, and her father's Irish brogue still clung to the edges of her words. 

Carter smiled at her. Frankly, the Captain looked far too handsome and young. Jane didn't let that bother her too much; she had never been a very good Catholic anyway. If she was, she'd still be living with her husband. 

"Oh, look, here comes another wretched female!" Jane announced as Dinah Jackson strode towards them, her nose buried in that little book of hers. She looked as dowdy as ever in her plain brown dress. At least it was better than her widow's black. Hard to think she had ever married. Jane wouldn't have believed it herself if she hadn't met the poor Pequot. The entire Massachusetts colony still refused to say her name in polite colony. "And worse," Jane mock-whispered to Captain Carter. "She's a _Quaker_. Where is Teal'c? Someone should send for the Egyptian. We cannot properly menace the poor sailors without her." 

Dinah shot her a withering glare, finally peeking over the edges of that damnable journal. "What is our next port of call? I need more information. I know next to nothing about the Mi'kmaq." 

Jane turned away to look back out across the ocean. It looked empty. And hungry. "The crew of the _Atlantis_ is not lounging about some native paradise. I told Captain Weir that searching for the Northwest Passage was a fool's errand." 

"Then why send us on a rescue mission?" Captain Carter asked. 

Jane didn't answer. She didn't need to.

* * *

Despite his effeminate appearance, there was no denying John Sheppard was a man. The boys at the tavern could say what they like, they hadn't survived serving in the king's navy, they could not hoist a sail as quickly as John, or killed as many pirates as John. He was a man, despite whatever the midwife had said when he was born. Joan Sheppard didn't exist. She died when John cut his hair and signed on as a cabin boy on the first ship that would take him. 

And now, finally, he was the first mate on the _Atlantis_. God, he loved that ship. It was a shame he'd probably die on it. 

The _Atlantis_ floated between the bobbing ice caps. The storm had thrown them wildly off-course. They were supposed to land in Montreal, drop off the girls, pick up their pay for a job well done, resupply, and then head north for their _real_ mission. Now they were stuck with dead winds, useless passengers, and rapidly dwindling rations. 

He just had to find some way of keeping the girls quiet and ignorant. The last thing he wanted was a panic. 

Which was why John quickly turned on his heel when he saw Mildred Rose McKay walking towards him. He liked her better when she was too sick to pry herself away from the railing. Also, he'd never seen someone turn that shade of green before in his life. It was fascinating. 

The _Atlantis_ had been employed to escort twenty-eight _filles de roi_ to New France, their passage paid by King Louis himself. Although they weren't exactly as noble as their name implied. Mostly, they were a collection of orphans, city vagrants, and the occasional prostitute recruited by the French government in hopes of civilizing their new colony. How exactly a Scottish woman and her equally Scottish cousin ended up with them was a mystery, although from what he'd heard McKay had been making the rounds at every European court in hopes of catching anyone with a bit of money and a title. Previously, she'd been in Russia, until they had chased her out. Captain Carter had looked over his shoulder at the mere mention of McKay's name, as though she were the devil who appeared when summoned. 

John wondered if anyone would notice if he tossed her overboard. 

"This lie has gone on long enough. I demand to know where we are," McKay hissed. Somewhere along the way, she had managed to cultivate an English accent. 

"I already told you, without wind it will take--" 

"Don't tell me how long it will take! I've made the calculations, we should have reached Montreal _weeks_ ago. I am not an idiot. I know how to do simple mathematics." 

She... wasn't wrong about that. 

"Which is why I really should marry someone with an estate," she continued as she went on a tangent about her favorite subject-- which was namely herself. "I would be _fantastic_ at managing another person's money. I've done poor, I'm no good at it. My constitution is far too delicate." She took a deep breath and that wild, scared look returned to her eyes. "We're lost, aren't we?" 

John took her by the elbow, away from the other girls who lingered on deck. He could see McKay's cousin, Camilla Beckett, looking curiously between them. "Yes," John whispered. "But we should reach land within a few days. After that, all we have to do is follow the coast south." While avoiding icebergs, scurvy, and hostile encounters with the native populations. Not that John was going to tell her that.


End file.
